


Identical Faces

by UnpublishedWriter



Category: Doctor Who (1963); Gotham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 05:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnpublishedWriter/pseuds/UnpublishedWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wayne Manor gets some unexpected guests, and the floor suffers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Identical Faces

Detectives Gordon and Bullock were halfway to the car when reality puckered up, screeched at them, and something with entirely too many limbs rushed between them, past Bruce and Alfred, and through the front doors of Wayne Manor. Closely followed by two men in military uniform and a white-haired man wearing a red velvet smoking jacket – all of whom had burst out of a blue box that looked too small for so many.

“Wh–at?” was all Bullock got out before crashing and yelling sent them running into the manor, despite Alfred’s best efforts to keep Bruce outside.

A large, multi-hued, cross between a bear and a centaur lay pinned in the foyer, cursing and thrashing. One of the soldiers had its head and front limbs in a full-nelson and his legs wrapped around a second set of limbs. The other soldier and the white-haired man were fully engaged with a pair of limbs each.

The creature’s cursing consisted mostly of threats to eat, flay, and eviscerate everyone in the room, varied with comments on ancestry and hygiene. 

“Please excuse the intrusion,” said the white-haired man, “but could one of you remove the inter-dimensional transporter from her chest?”

After pushing Bruce towards Bullock, Alfred cautiously approached. He saw that the dark blue of the creature’s chest was fabric, and she wore a belt with a number of objects attached. “Is it on the belt?”

“Yes – Oof!”

“Right, then.” Looked like an oversized quick-release buckle on the belt. He glanced up at the soldier wrapped around the torso. An officer – a brigadier, no less – actually getting his hands dirty?

“I’ve – ughff! – got her.” Although, the way the creature struggled, not for much longer.

“Yes, sir.” He had to use both hands on the buckle, then pulled the belt clear.

“You, young man. Reach into my left coat pocket. You’ll find restraints.”

Gordon didn’t see so much as a bulge, but he obeyed. To his surprise, he removed a neat stack of flat shackles. “How do these work?”

“The two purple ones are first, and they fasten similar to handcuffs.”

Which turned out to be true. Thin, strong, cabling connected the shackles. Rearmost limbs, then the next set. “Are these the legs?”

“Primarily.” The white-haired man looked none the worse for wear, unlike the lanky sergeant. “I’m the Doctor, and this is Sergeant Benton and Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart.” All while helping shackle the four arms.

“The Doctor?” the creature asked. “You are the Doctor?” She sounded terrified. All the fight went out of her and she stood up with their assistance.

“Yes. You wouldn’t have tried to eat the Finnish ambassador had you known who I was?”

Gordon looked at the two soldiers (who appeared to be having a ‘Are you hurt?’ ‘No, I’m fine’ conversation) and mouthed a question. “Among other things,” the Brigadier said, as if this happened on a regular basis. Which it probably did.

“Oh, uh, Detective James Gordon, Gotham City Police Department. That’s my partner, Harvey Bullock, the young man is Bruce Wayne, and the man trying very hard not to stand to attention and salute you is Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Although both detectives saw something under the bland acknowledgement.

The Doctor went over to Alfred, hand out to take the belt, and stopped, eyes widening. “Well.”

Gordon and Bullock’s jaws hit each other on the floor. Bruce just gawped, as did Alfred.

Had they not seen the blue box arrive out of nowhere, they might have thought of separated identical – or even fraternal – twins. Only hair and clothing distinguished butler from visitor.

“Another one,” the Doctor said.

Lethbridge-Stewart lifted an eyebrow, waiting.

“Oh, it’s not the first time I’ve met someone who resembled me, Alistair.” The Doctor grinned. “I think it’s rather appropriate, this time, don’t you?” He slung the belt over his shoulder.

The alien prisoner mumbled something about oncoming storms and lonely gods. 

Bullock found his voice: “What happens, now?”

“We take her back to our universe and remove the coordinates for this one from memory.” The Doctor took something out of another pocket and aimed it at one of the objects on the belt. A whir, a buzz, and he nodded. “Brigadier, Sergeant: let’s get our captive where she belongs – and then help clean up the mess.”

As the trio walked their captive out, Gordon said, “Those restraints couldn’t have fit in his pocket, but they did.”

“And what did he mean by his resemblance to Alfred being appropriate?” Bruce tried to follow them out, only for Bullock to take his shoulder.

“I’m wondering two things,” the burly detective said: “what the hell is going on, and what does that guy use on his hair?”

“Seriously? You want to know what he uses on his hair?” Gordon asked.

“I wouldn’t mind knowing.” When they looked at him, Alfred shrugged. “Why do you think I keep mine so short?”

The Doctor and his comrades returned. Without preamble, they all shed their jackets and started picking up and righting the larger objects. Alfred left and returned with assorted cleaning supplies. 

There are benefits to having military men do the clean-up. While there hadn’t been as much damage to the floor as feared, neither Benton nor Lethbridge-Stewart left off cleaning and polishing until the job met with their approval. Not even the Doctor found a spot to buff.

“Can I offer you anything?” Bruce asked, when they finished.

“Unfortunately, we must be off,” the Doctor said. “We had a time limit, and there are fifteen minutes left.” He led the way outside.

“Then why didn’t you dump your captive and return?” Bullock asked.

“It’s best to make as few inter-dimensional trips as possible.”

“You made a hole in the wall, and it’s hard enough to fix as it is?”

“That’s incredibly oversimplified, but reasonably accurate.”

When they reached the box, Alfred said, “I haven’t seen one of those since I was a nipper.”

“Bet it’s camouflage.” Although Gordon wondered why it looked like a police box and not, say, a minivan or delivery truck.

“Goodbye,” Bruce said, holding out a hand, and starting a short round of handshakes and farewells.

The Doctor opened the doors and the four Gothamites had a brief view of a much larger, white, room before he and his friends boarded.

With the same indescribable sound, the box faded away.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not telling anyone about this,” Gordon said.

Bullock nodded. “Neither am I. That’s a quick ticket to Arkham.”

  


In the TARDIS – 

“Did we just meet fictional characters?” Lethbridge-Stewart asked.

“Apparently so.” The Doctor gave him a sharp look. “Don’t ask me to explain. Steve would barely understand.”

The Brigadier almost asked ‘Steve’s’ full name, then decided he didn’t want to know. “Then tell me about this other chap who looked like you.”


End file.
